Lysa TerKeurst _{Leading Women in the Adventure of Faith}

Hi friends~ It’s a Holly Day and we are on set in Michigan taping Lysa’s DVD Bible study for her December release of Made to Crave!

I am sitting with her as we get her hair and make-up ready. She is as calm as a cucumber (on the outside at least). I however always seem to take on the emotional energy for her and my heart is pounding!

I got her permission to share a rather embarrassing airport story from yesterday with you. We were standing in the concourse waiting for our Chili’s to-go order conversing with several pilots and others waiting in line. Lysa had just returned from a quick trip to the restroom, when we realized it was time to head to our gate. As we grabbed our lunch and started to leave, I was walking behind her and noticed that her really hip and happnin’ dress was neatly tucked up inside her undergarments.

Yes. No kidding. It’s true. Sigh.

So I quickly pulled and pulled until it was out and whispered in her ear, ‘just don’t think about it.We won’t talk about it or think about it’.

But we both laughed and laughed our way to the gate.

Never a dull moment my friends. I can assure you. Never.

On a more serious note…Lysa would like me to ask you 2 questions today: Why do we find it so difficult to stick with a healthy eating plan? And what do you find sabotages your best efforts?

She will look forward to reading your answers later today!

Thank you and please pray for her!

I am going to try to post some updates on her author facebook page and twitter today…so check in if you can!

Love to you~

Holly

Hey friends! It’s a Holly Day today…and we are so happy to share a couple of things with you!

1. We’d like to show you the cover of Lysa’s new book Made to Crave due out in December!

We hope you like it as much as we do!

2. Here are the winners of the first 10 copies hot off the press in December! Please email me to claim your prize at Holly@Proverbs31.org. The winners are: Karen R., Tiki, Patty Coleman, Maureen F., LeAnn Hilemon, Brande Says, Maggie, Jess Anne, Kyla, and Kay Parrish

3. And lastly, I would like to ask everyone for your prayers as Lysa, LeAnn and I travel to Grand Rapids today to record Lysa’s DVD Bible study for her upcoming release of Made to Crave.

As you can imagine, this is a huge endeavor and your prayers would be appreciated. She will be taping 6 teaching sessions that are approx 20 min each, 6 intros and a promo spot, all in front of a live audience.

LeAnn and I are so happy to be a part of it, but all the while we are praising God we won’t be in front of those cameras!

Our prayer through this project is that women will find the ‘want to’ in their struggle with healthy eating. We have found that so many of us feel overweight physically and underweight spiritually. And through this study she ties these two things together to show this can be one of our most significant journeys that we’ll ever take with God.

As she unpacks rich truths from the Bible, Lysa’s deepest desire is for women to understand that we were made for more. We were made to crave God, not food. And it is possible to quiet the daily battle in our minds.

Please pray with us as we trust this teaching will lead many to new beginnings and fresh depths of insight.

Please also pray with us for protection from the darts of the enemy – mentally, physically and spiritually.

Thank you, thank you – we so appreciate each one of you who took the time to read this post today. I know it will encourage Lysa so much to know that you are praying.

 May He go before us and find every word she speaks pleasing to Him ~

Check back tomorrow for an update!

Love to you~

Holly

Thank you for your hanging in there with me these past 3 days of sharing Jackson’s story. And thank you for you sharing your stories with me. You better believe I will be praying for those of you who tenderly shared in the comments your stories of everything from kindergarten send offs, to college send offs, to homeschooling, to traditional schooling and all in between.

Several of you even shared how you live close by Union University. How cool. So, if any of you happen to bump into my sweet Jackson this week tell him these three very profound words: CALL YOUR MAMA.

I heard through the sister grapevine, he’s lost his cell phone.

So, those sweet little prayer texts I’ve been sending are just floating around in the cellular world. And I’m trying not to cross that line between mothering and smothering. I’ve only sent two texts and tried to call once. I think this is good. You know what I’m saying? Just a little something back that simply says, “I’m still alive,” would be nice.

But, I’m not thinking it would be cool to call the school and have someone track him down to deliver my message.

I’m thinking of something entirely more subtle. Like buying a billboard near the school cafeteria and plastering it with: “Jackson T… YOUR MAMA WANTS YOU TO CALL HER.” Or maybe a flyby plane with the message banner trailing behind it. Or maybe a sign toting man that parachutes into next athletic event. Totally clever I think.

Anyhow.

Speaking of communicating with your people, I thought it would be fun to communicate with you a little bit this weekend. Will you take just a moment to leave a comment by clicking on the word ‘comments’ below and following the prompts.

Here’s what I’d like to know:

1. My book, Made to Crave- satisfying life’s deepest desires with God not food, is set to release in late December. This is not a diet book.

It’s a spiritual and mental motivation book that’s the perfect companion to any healthy eating plan you choose. I truly believe it will be the missing link between a woman’s desire to get healthy and finally finding lasting victory.

So, if I host this Bible study live on my blog in January for six weeks would you be interested in joining along?

2. Do you have some friends you’d be willing to invite to join us as well?

3. Where would you most likely buy the book from… amazon, the Proverbs 31 site, CBD, a Christian bookstore, or a general bookstore?

Thanks for taking time to give me this information. As a thank you, every person that leaves a comment today will be entered to win the first available copies of this book. I’ll be giving the first 10 copies hot off the press to 10 of you!!!

Your input is that valuable! It’s a daunting task to write a book. But an even more daunting task to know how to market your book.

Almost as daunting as figuring out how to get your son to call you from college. Smiles.

The past two days I’ve been sharing the story of my boys. The timing of telling this story is quite intentional. Jackson started college this week.

Seven years ago this week, I was sitting at my kitchen table crying.

I’d just been handed the test results confirming at the tender ages of 13 and 14, my boys needed to be in kindergarten. Kindergarten. And no kindergarten class would take them- not any public school, not any private school.

As if that wasn’t scary enough, there was another reality with which I had to come to grips. My sons would age out of school and no longer be permitted to attend past the age of 21. I would only have 7 years to get Jackson schooled K-12. I would only have 8 years with Mark. That’s it.

Me. The woman who skipped pages when reading every bedtime story I’ve ever read. Me. The woman who only felt I could handle one child and then suddenly woke up one day to the reality she had 5. Me. The woman who is emotionally allergic to flashcards and who still uses her fingers to count.

So, there I sat in the midst of impossibility too tired to get a tissue. I swiped my sleeve across my nose and wondered how in heavens we’d ever climb this mountain before us.

I begged God to remove the mountain and let me wake up one day to discover my boys’ heads full of knowledge and ready to board the beautiful yellow bus that passed by our home day after day.

We serve a God who most certainly can move mountains.

But sometimes the greater revelations of God are discovered when He doesn’t move the mountain. Instead, He takes our hand and helps us climb up and over impossibilities one step at a time. And that’s the path God had for us.

I learned, to be a true woman of faith we must live lives that actually require a little bit of faith. I didn’t have the luxury any longer of saying I had faith but finding comfort in my little back up plan. We women are so clever with that.

Instead, every day I had no choice but to admit my absolute desperation for God.

I lifted up my tiny bit of willingness and revealed my great spiritual maturity as I prayed, “Lord, you have seriously gotten us into a mess.

I mean a real mess. And I sure hope you have some kind of secret knowledge about my abilities to teach. Their inability to grasp multiplication today is about to get on the last good nerve I have left. And we all know a mama with no good nerves left ain’t a pretty site. Amen.”

Those long days turned into years. The years turned into miracles. The miracles turned into a high school diploma and a chance to go to Union University in Tennessee.

As I helped Jackson move into his dorm this past weekend, I found myself taking mental snapshots of where his feet will tread this year. The patchy grass. The linoleum in the classroom halls. The cement stairs leading to his dorm room. The floor of his room which I’m sure will only be swept clean this one day. And I prayed.

“Lord, his precious feet have traveled so far to get to this place. Guide every step he takes on this campus. Help him to walk in a manner worthy of the calling you so obviously have on his life.”

I hugged him goodbye and walked to my car alone. I once again swiped the sleeve of my shirt across my nose and wondered… how in heavens could I miss those days at the kitchen table so very much.

Yesterday, we left off with 12 orphan boys surprised by voices they never knew they had. They weren’t the only ones surprised. The head of the orphanage and a visiting American ambassador found themselves captivated by the boy’s abilities to string together chords and spellbinding harmonies. They challenged the boys to form an official choir and spend their afternoon free time each day practicing.

With no vision of what could be and nothing promising on the horizon, the boys had to make a choice.

A tough choice.

A choice between what felt good in the moment- soccer, and what they knew in their gut they should do- practice their music.

Their favorite activity each day was playing soccer. They thought about soccer when they woke up in the morning. They thought about soccer while at school. They thought about soccer during the mandatory afternoon chapel service at the orphanage. They thought about soccer during their one meal of the day after chapel. And then the glory of each day finally came true late each afternoon when they were turned lose on the dirt yard behind the orphanage.

The first week of music practice was the hardest. The soccer game sounds would drift into the hot cinder block room where they stood singing. Their legs screamed with the desire to run. Their skin begged for the relief of the outside breeze. Their minds drifted to what was comfortable and familiar.

But their souls refused the lure of the familiar. They stayed focused on that gentle nudge toward the first inklings of a calling. So, they stood and they sang. At least most of them.

A few of the original choir boys returned to the soccer field. And a few others playing soccer decided to make the sacrifice to sing. And nobody knew what a crucial choice they were making.

For one day the American ambassador returned. With a vision, some paper work, and a plan not yet explained to anyone but the orphanage director, the ambassador instructed the choir boys to board a bus. They didn’t have time to say goodbye or grab anything. They simply walked on that bus.

Thus began a journey that would eventually take them half way across the world to sing in churches in America.

And in true God fashion, the road was paved for two very unlikely worlds to collide.

Most of you know the rest of this story. Boys meet overwhelmed white mama with three little girls in tow. White mama never thought careful Daddy would ever agree. But God. Miracles happen. We adopt. Our friends also adopt. And those 12 boys who were in a forgotten orphanage, in a forgotten country, were no longer forgotten.

Why am I telling you this story? Is it so you will be haunted with conviction to run out and adopt teenaged boys from Africa? No.

I am sharing this story to remind us girls of a few crucial facts as they relate to some of the things we’ve been discussing here lately.

Whether we’re trying to tame our run away emotions— or tame our runaway desires for unhealthy foods— or dig out from our financial messes—- or get to a better place in our marriage— or figure out where in the world do the unorganized people like me still find the school supplies we should have bought weeks ago.

It is good to remember what kind of God we serve.

We serve a God who responds to thankful people even when we don’t see immediate answers to our prayers.

We serve a God who offers us the power to make the courageous choices.

We serve a God who is always working behind the scenes to make the unlikely absolute reality.

We serve a God who wants His people to follow Him and His calling even when it’s stinking hard to resist the soccer game outside.

We serve a God who wants His people to believe. Really believe. And live like we really believe.

We serve the One, True, Almighty, Undeniable, Absolutely Reliable, Above All, In All, Worthy of Everything, Capable of Anything, and Deserving of my absolute best- God.

That’s Who we serve.

And this miracle of how my boys made their way home reminds me, haunts me, propels me, and compels me in the best kind of way.

What kind of needed reminder does it give you? I’d love to know by reading your comments today.

And if I haven’t already taken up too much of your time, after you leave your comment, feel free to pop over to InCourage where I’m guest posting today.

Ten years ago, there were two orphan boys ages 11 and 12 whose lives were hard and whose bellies were hungry. They had never known full.

Their lives were spent trying to figure out how to simply survive.

Their long days felt very, very hopeless. Their long nights were filled with prayers asking God to please notice them. Give them one more day of life. And somehow let someone catch wind of their cries that just seemed to rise into the night sky and dissipate unheard.

One day in the orphanage chapel service a worker challenged one of the orphan boys to stand in the midst of his nothingness and proclaim why he was thankful. The boy squirmed to his feet. He swatted the flies darting at his crusty face and stared down at his cracked and bleeding feet. He took his toe and twisted it into the dirt as knots of nerves twisted in his gut.

It is hard to be full of thanks when your belly and your life feel so empty.

Though he was mentally searching for something, something, anything…

his brain betrayed him and he feared getting smacked for saying nothing. So, he opened his mouth and forced out a praise song. At first the sound was an off key, slight attempt barely squeaking out this simple praise for God and God alone.

It was like pumping and pumping a deep well that only squeaks and creaks and produces nothing but muddy droplets long held captive inside the pipes. Eventually, the fresh water will rush out in rich gushes of delight. And so did the song of the little orphan boy.

He was as surprised as anyone. He’d never known he could sing.

The next day the other orphan boy was asked to stand and say why he was thankful. He too decided to sing.

Eventually, there were 12 boys who found themselves surprised by the songs they never knew they had. Twelve boys who made the choice to stand in the midst of their nothingness and give thanks. In this world they had nothing. But in God they had everything. And though it takes most people a lifetime to understand how things unseen are what really makes a person full, the young orphan boys found this truth in their songs.

I will continue this story tomorrow. There is so much more.

But for today, I want us to not shy away from whatever way this story pricks our hearts. Find the challenge. Let God speak in bold whispers to your soul. Grab some of these words and refuse the typical momentary inspiration in lieu of that unsettled feeling that this unfinished story is supposed to haunt us all.

And give yourself permission to be haunted.

Congrats to Amy Blankenship! You are the winner of my book ‘Becoming More Than a Good Bible Study Girl’. Please email Holly@Proverbs31.org to obtain your book!